


Cold Hell

by BotchedExperiment



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Emetophilia, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 02:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2674745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BotchedExperiment/pseuds/BotchedExperiment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You did not plan to spend your evening in a freezing apartment while your boyfriend puked his guts out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Hell

You did not plan to spend your evening in a freezing apartment while your boyfriend puked his guts out. Dave had been complaining about a headache for the last couple of days but it wasn't until today (When the power went out, might you add) that the two of you realized what he had caught was a stomach bug.

It was an unforgiving bug that had Dave bent over a trash bin for most of the night. You're both wrapped in blankets and surrounded by weird smelling candles (Thanks for the Christmas gift, Rose.), still trying to savor the night.

"Movie Night" basically ended up being watching The Avengers until your laptop died. Dave apologizes every time you have to pause the movie as he throws up, but you haven't even paid attention because your focus is constantly on him. Frankly, you didn't think he was paying attention either. When you look over he's usually eyeing the trash can nervously with the color drained from his face. Dave's shades are long gone, shed away at the beginning of his nausea.

You look back to your computer as soon as you hear a pathetic whirrrr. And it's dead. There goes your last electronic of the night until the power comes back. You look out the window to see the heavy snowflakes falling slowly to the ground. You're not getting your electricity back anytime soon, which means no electronics anytime soon.

Dave hiccups and his breath hitches again before retching into the bin. You hear painful coughing between liquid hitting the bottom of the trash can. After a few minutes, Dave sits up and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. "Fuck."

A few seconds of silence go by before you decide to say something "Sorry my laptop died."

He squints at you "Your wha-? . . . Oh." thus proving that neither of you were paying attention.

"Feeling better?" Dave gives you a glare that could kill, but he doesn't respond.

No, instead he lets his head fall on your lap and curls up into a feverish Strider ball. You laugh and fix the blanket on his shoulders as he shivers on top of you.

"Hey Daaaave . . ."

"Hm?"

"Is your phone dead?"

It takes him  a few seconds to find his pocket and slip his phone out. He presses a button and the room brightens. ". . . Nope."

"Can I use it?"

Dave wordlessly places his phone in your hand before closing his eyes and nuzzling his face into your leg. You run your fingers through his hair while using your other hand to look up the weather. Just as you thought the snow wasn't going to stop until morning. You place the phone on the coffee table and focus all of your attention on your sick boyfriend. You're sure he didn't feel this warm before, but of course before you two weren't cocooned in blankets.

Dave gives an uncharacteristic whine and starts to sit up. He has his upper body supported by an elbow before he vomits allover your lap. He shoots up with a hand covering his mouth. Dave manages to get back over the trash bin before more puke comes up and coats his hand, and then he throws up one more time. The look he gives you afterwards is pure misery, and then an apology that he couldn't give verbally in fear of throwing up again. He's panting as he stays there, holding the bin tightly.

You slip your jeans off, which makes you colder than hell. Well, colder than a cold version of hell? Like, with ice instead of fire? Yeah, okay. The point is that you're left in boxer shorts freezing your ass off, but it's better than being covered in vomit.

Finally Dave places the trash can back on the ground. He gets one look at your . . . pant-less state and lets out a breathy laugh "That was not how I was planning to get you out of your clothes."

You can't look past the misery still on his face "Are you okay?"

"Um . . ." He looks down at his slightly stained shirt and his vomit-covered hand, inspecting himself as if he doesn't know the answer. Dave lets out a sigh "Egbert, I'm dizzy, I'm tired, and we're both covered in puke."

"So . . . That's a no?"

He doesn't reply. Instead he's staring at the bottom of the bin. And then he pukes. You reach over and press the back of your hand to his cheek as gently as possible. "Maybe I should take you to the ER?"

"What? No."

"But you're just getting worse! Rose would definitely drag you to the hospital by now."

He sighs at the thought of his sister "That’s because Rose has no mercy."

"Ugh, fine."

With that, he looks relieved.

You smile "No offense, but I think we should both shower."

Dave agrees.

 


End file.
